Chris' Travel Blog

After the passport drama I got some extra cash out for the next couple of days, and bought some shower gel from the airport shop so I could wash myself. And then I got a taxi back to Bamboo. I figured arriving back would take them by surprise but they were the best accommodation still at an affordable price so I didn’t care. Of course, a few of them were like ‘Hello Chris, you didn’t get your flight?’ They had heard about the flight being delayed but obviously not sure why I had returned completely. I told them why and they probably thought the situation rather odd. Probably laughed about it too when I was out of earshot but I didn’t care, I would have too.

I text the parents ‘Hello, Can you go on Skype? I’m fine but just need to chat’. That was enough to send Mum into a panic, I don’t quite know how I could have worded it differently though. The way she went on anyone would think I’d sent a message stating ‘Help me! I’m stranded in Fiji all alone, and don’t know when I will get home again!’ Spent a while chatting to them (very useful free wifi) and explaining the situation and checked into my old room again. There were people in it this time, I wasn’t alone but I decided I didn’t want to make any more friends so kept myself to myself.

I went to the beach and sunbathed for a while, then took a dip in the swimming pool. I had lunch at Bamboo, three whole egg sandwiches, so I was pretty stuffed. And then I decided to take a walk along the beach. It wasn’t as pretty as the Yasawa’s and I might as well have been walking along the beach at Weston Super Mare but I needed the walk to clear my thoughts really. I remembered as I walked along that it was a public holiday, evidenced by the amount of Fijian locals on the beach, swimming or playing with their kids. I was trying to be inconspicuous but it wasn’t so easy when I was the only white man on the beach.

Did I mention before that many Fijians are actually Indian? The story goes that when the white man settled there and wanted to set it up how they wished, they ‘employed’ the Fijians to work on the land. Apparently their ‘Fiji time’ attitude didn’t quite adjust to the European mentality where everything has to be done NOW, and eventually thousands of migrants were transported to Fiji from India, who were seen as more efficient workers. So the Fijian is now a mix of natural settlers and Indian migrants. But they all seem to accept each other as one, and as far as I know there has never been any conflict between the races which is nice to hear. But I don’t really know the full story so can’t state that as gospel truth.

It was an Indian/Fijian woman who approached me on the beach now and invited me over to join her family for their picnic. I declined at first making an excuse that I was walking along the beach further down and would stop again if I came back that way. I had sort of been hoping that I could find a route off the beach but only a few more minutes down the beach and the water had completely cut off one side from the other. I could have waded and swam through it but had stupidly bought my camera with me, so turned back, and deciding it was meant to be, joined the family on their picnic.

There was a large mix of people including sisters, brothers, in laws, cousins and the mother. At least 10 of them in all and I got asked all the standard questions about where I came from and my travels, and what job I did etc. I tried to keep conversation about them, partly because I feel awkward speaking about my life which is so clearly more advantageous than there’s will ever be, full of opportunities. For example, none of them had ever even visited the Yasawa’s which they wanted to know all about. I couldn’t say oh it’s crap because that would have insulted their intelligence. They obviously knew it was beautiful from all they had heard over the years, I felt sad knowing none of them might ever get the chance to go.

I thought it would be more interesting to learn something about them, but then there’s only so much you can ask without being intrusive. I learnt that they all knew and were taught from childhood each other’s languages, the Indian, Fijian and the national language which was English. They had relatives abroad including a brother in Canada, and a sister in California. It sounded to me like these other relatives were funded by the Fijian family when studying, and to get them their visas in a better country. And then after a while the relative would send money to them and the roles would reverse.

Of all the Fijian people I met, who had relatives abroad, particularly their children, including a taxi driver and someone at the Bamboo lodge, none of them mentioned Australia or New Zealand as the place of destination. I wasn’t sure if this was coincidence or an indication that migration to those countries was much harder. They were a lovely family and said that today was one of only a few days a year when they could all be together, which made me feel bad for now intruding in on their family time. They kept trying to fee me, and it must have seemed I wasn’t keen as I couldn’t eat much, what with still being stuffed by the egg sandwiches. I recall most distinctly this tuna onion rice dish which must have been smothered in chilli. They ate everything with their hands too which made me a little suspicious of hygiene. But I could hardly say no.

Then when I was so full the men kept trying to make me drink the beer. After a few glasses I thought I was going to be sick and then I started to feel a bit awkward when they wanted to add me on facebook and seeing that I had a camera decided they would like a picture taken with all of them, almost one by one. But they were a good laugh and it seemed a good consolation prize for having got delayed for two days. I got the standard have you got a girlfriend or a wife, and would you like one question. Awkward laughter, brush it off, brush it off – you can imagine!

And then when I decided it was time for me to make my way back to the hostel, one of the guys asked if he could join me for a drink later. I was quite happy not to but didn’t quite say that. Instead I said was getting a flight that evening, thinking how I would now have to hide myself for the rest of the evening in my room to avoid being seen. He was a little pushy about it and I’m worried that I offended him by being so vague about meeting up again later. I made my awkward goodbye to all of them and then sped up my pace back down the beach. The tide was in at this point and so I had to walk slightly off the beach and take another route around this building, which looked like a storage place for boats and vehicles.

Coming round the side of the building I entered a little sandy path full of rubbish and dodged my way around it seeing at the end of the path access back to the other side of the beach. Just as I was reaching it a guy stepped out of the bushes and well pretty much blocked my path. He seemed harmless enough and I couldn’t realistically see him as a threat as we were so close to the beach, I could hear kids running about etc. But he was clearly quite drunk, a large box of Fiji beer standing next to him. He quickly stated how glad he was to have company, having just got out of prison after a 7 year sentence and having nowhere to live due to being disowned by his family. I didn’t ask him what he had done. He just sort of kept talking and pushed a bottle of beer into my hand and demandingly requested that I have a drink with him.

This was not how I had envisioned my walk along the beach concluding. He was obviously nuts but I didn’t feel scared, just very unsettled and eager to get back to my room. I decided then that the following day I wouldn’t go on any more adventures down the beach, and would stick close to my hostel. He kept blabbing away giving me no room to make my excuses to leave and I guess I was slightly fascinated too by what he had to say. He was certainly an interesting character.

He then gave me the lowdown on Fiji women and how he had one arriving soon. He said something along the lines of ‘Fijian women, they love anything, they don’t mind it here in the dirt, they’ll do it anywhere, they just want my dick’. He told me all of this as he made drunkard thrusting movements. The thought of what was due to happen made me feel sick for the girl, and thankful for having an excuse to escape. Then he wanted my facebook details, so I made one up and finally his phone started ringing.

I saw this as my chance and pretty much dashed to the beach and back to normality. I was back at Bamboo hostel within five minutes, had a shower and then went back to the beach to watch the sunset. After that, I had a chicken pasta dinner and then read in my room and began watching Prison Break season 1 on my laptop. Time to go home now please! The next day was very low key. I didn’t bump into any more faces - new or old - read my book, wrote up some of my blog and then chilled until it was time to get a taxi to the airport. I left a little earlier this time, just in case the flight had been cancelled again and I could be at the front of the queue and get accommodation first.

But finally everything ran smoothly. No delays, I checked in as though none of the events of the last two days had ever happened, sat watching prison break on my laptop in the departure lounge until it was time to board the plane. I didn’t get a window seat as I had on previous flights but could hardly complain as I was thankful just to be on the bloody thing. I hardly slept on the flight and instead read a large chunk of my book, but the time passed smoothly enough. Landing in LA was a total nuisance; I only had two hours between getting off the plane and boarding the one to Heathrow.

And it took 1hr and 50 minutes to get onto the next plane. The customs in the states now is so severe. They scan every finger and thumb print on each hand, two photographs, plus an eye scan, and then interviewed me on where I was going on my journey. Home! They wanted to know why I didn’t have an address in the states where I was going. ‘Because I’m going home, to the UK’ (you moron, I wanted to add). This took almost an hour to get through. Then the queue to get our luggage scanned through these massive machines took another 20 or so minutes. I kept asking how long it would take to get through as I had a connecting flight to catch, but they all seemed confident I would be fine.

Then I had to drop my luggage off at the transit flight zone. I felt a little dubious about this because the guy didn’t feel me with confidence as he took the bag off me and dumped it on a conveyor belt with dozens of other bags. Then I found my way to British Airways check in which had a massive queue full of American school kids. After a while someone walked around saying ‘anyone for the 3.50 flight?’ Yes me! She looked instantly concerned and pushed me to the front of the line saying I had to get through check in as my flight as I still had a long line to get through at security. She was right, that took another twenty minutes. But I wasn’t so worried at this stage as there were other faces I recognised from my Fiji flight, who were obviously getting the same connecting flight. I got there five minutes before the gate closed and to be honest was quite happy that I got there in the nick of time. It meant I didn’t have to hang around waiting.

I got a window seat on the plane and there was a free seat between me and another girl. Her name was Kate and we seemed to hit it off well. She came from Thame in Oxford, same place where the sister lives, and was travelling for a bit before returning to her job as an emergency nurse. I think if meeting under different circumstances we would have become good friends, but it was nice to meet someone I clicked with right at the end. We were both returning home so shared that feeling of nerves and excitement too. We started chatting when the air stewardess explained that there was a couple who would like to sit together and as we had a free seat between us would either of us be willing to move… We both said no. I wasn’t giving up a comfy seat on an 11 hour journey. That’s their tough luck. Kate agreed. I think the air stewardess was on our side anyhow as the lady of the couple was very irritating.

We ended up walking together off the plane and through customs and our luggage turned up on the conveyor at exactly the same time. We said half joking and half sincerely how nice it was to have had someone to share that last walk with as we headed towards the exit sign and out to our families. And typically but not surprisingly when I finally saw Mum and Natalie I was happy and smiling but none of us got emotional or cried. We kissed and hugged and then the first thing Mum said was:

‘Have you got your bank card on you? We need you to get some cash out so we can pay for the parking.’

Welcome home! xxx

p.s. thank you for reading it all this time. Hope I didn’t bore you too much :-)

First we boarded the speed boat out to the main ferry, serenaded once again by the workers at the resort. On the boat I took a seat inside near the window opposite the Texan couple who had won the crab race a couple of evenings before. It turned out they were on their honeymoon before they continued their residencies. It was like talking to characters from Grey’s Anatomy. But these two were a tad annoying, the stereotypical American types. He had the jock accent down to a tee, and she wore white pearls and luurved to talk, actually she never shut up. They were nice but ET came on the TV and that suddenly seemed far more appealing than a conversation with nice enough people who I would never see again once off the boat. So I threw in some swear words to my dialogue which clearly left her unimpressed, as predicted the schmaltzy conservative type, and the conversation soon faded.

ET was great and I got to see the whole thing. I saw a few people I recognised from other resorts pop on and off the boat, most of whom I imagined to avoid eye contact with. I was getting into the film after all. But the Hawaiian girl from Manta Ray sat down one seat away from me and it would have been impossible to not come across as rude if I didn’t acknowledge her. We chatted for a bit and she seemed sort of serious about her whole experience so far. She later said how she was so glad to be travelling as she used to be so serious before, and this is living in Hawaii! I imagine she was a little bit ‘woe is me’ but then she hadn’t really researched Fiji for the best resorts. There was no doubt everyone who left Blue Lagoon seemed lifted in some way after staying there a few days. But that was no longer an option as she headed back to the mainland for a week. Way too long!

I sat with her on the shuttle bus back to the main tourist area in Nadi, and we wrote each other’s names down to add as friends on facebook. Another one I never actually added! I stayed at Bamboo this time, more basic than Smugglers Cove, but only $15 a night (£5) for an air con dorm. I was in a very good mood too as the place also offered fast wifi for free which worked in the dorm and there was no one else in my room except me. Bargain! They offered a meal for $10 which was more than reasonable and as I sat down to enjoy a fish dinner I spotted the English couple from Eli at one of the tables. To be honest, there were no tables free so I kind of had to say hello but I’m glad I did as they were good to chat to. They had spent a whole week on the mainland and seemed happy with their choice so I guess there must have been something to offer I didn’t know about.

We watched a fire show which just happened to occur right in front of us as we were eating, and fascinatingly two of the performers were
kids. The older boy was incredible and had so many tricks, and he was only 10. Don’t know what Mum would have said to me wanting to learn how to swing fire balls at that age. The whole family took their turn; Dad was a bit lame, ironically. They had English accents so I wondered how they had ended up performing fire shows at a backpackers accommodation in Fiji. As luck had it, the couple whose names were Rick and Sarah (which they reminded me as I had forgot, they remembered mine, bit embarrassing) were flying out the following night to Hawaii thirty minutes after my flight, so we agreed to meet the following night at dinner and share a taxi to the airport. After they left, I spent a while browsing the internet and went to bed.

The next morning began with me repacking all my crap into my rucksack, including the stuff I had left in storage at the other hotel before visiting the Yasawa’s. It was a tight squeeze but I managed it, I had managed to add 7kg to my luggage in one year. Most people lose that much. I don’t like to be predictable I guess. Bamboo wasn’t situated on the beach, but on the opposite side of the road. So in order to sit on the beach and read my book I snuck around the side of Smugglers Cove and sat under a tree further down, slightly out of sight, in case any of the workers spotted me. I’m sure they’d hardly have cared if they had.

Not that surprisingly, as I had gotten use to bumping into people on multiple occasions now, as I went to sit down I heard ‘Chris!’ And as I turned to look I saw Nicola, the uber confident 18 year English girl I had met in New Zealand and gone zorbing down a hill with. From previous discussion with Lara I had decided I wasn’t that keen but I could hardly turn my head and sit and ignore her. So I went over and we chatted for a couple of hours. She was with another English guy she had befriended who was also nice enough, but all these people by this point seem the same in my memory.

She was staying the whole two weeks in Nadi which seemed absurd. Admittedly Yasawa’s is expensive because of the transport out there, but it is paradise compared to the mainland. And surely once you’re that close you have to visit it right?! I didn’t want to insult her by saying this so just smiled and thought how ‘how nice to be stuck on a beach for two weeks that doesn’t even compare to Weymouth’. I should note that due to the currents the water was very muddy…

After a while she had to head off as she was going on a trip for one night to another part of the mainland. It sounded rather average. I didn’t fancy making small talk with a guy who I’d only know for a matter of hour so made my own excuses about a rumbling stomach and went back to Bamboo to enjoy their bargain lunch. I spent the day in a very procrastinating mood, browsing crap online and struggling to get into my new book. I wanted to be home.

Evening came round and I went off to have a shower before joining Rick and Sarah again at dinner. We got a taxi at about 7.30 and headed to the airport. Rick enquired about how long the taxi driver had been working as a taxi driver, and we received a monologue of his recently deceased wife from a prolonged illness and his now dependent mother and mother-in-law and how he must all hours of the day to basically stay alive. This made me feel wonderful about myself as we paid him his $10 and gathered our bags to go board a plane to brighter pastures. I bet Rick wished he had never asked. Sadly, I never got to discuss it with him. We said we would see each other in the departure lounge and then made our way off to our different check-in counters. That was sadly the last time I ever saw them.

As I joined the queue I got my first piece of bad news. The flight had been delayed; and not just a few hours but from 10pm until 7am the next day. The next 24 hours just became very surreal from hereon. I couldn’t quite believe a flight could be delayed that long and then I started to hear mutters about an ash cloud and a little fear rose in me. I was only a little uncertain about flying over the pacific ocean but with an ash cloud hanging about, I wasn’t keen at all. I got most of my information from a Fijian girl who was on board the same plane. It was interesting to meet her, as I had narrow mindedly assumed Fijian people were all quite poor in many respects. But here was a girl who had studied in American and was soon to be living there permanently and was visiting her friends and family for two weeks on a break from College. Presumably she came from money but still.

One of the airport workers was her friend and she came over to discuss what had happened, which resolved any doubts as to the situation. Our plane for whatever reason was stuck in NZ still and we had to wait till the next one on the round the world route caught up. They were putting us up in accommodation for free for the night which was a relief also, plus a free meal and free phone call. Again, a nice relief, even if annoying. More annoying was that I waited in line until 10.30 before I actually got to the counter and given a voucher for accommodation. Longest bloody queue ever!

I chatted also to an older American couple, not so stereotypical and easy to get along with. I can’t really remember much about them now but they were nice and lended me some toiletries because I had thrown mine away to make room in my rucksack, assuming I was actually going home that day. The room I was put up in is ironically the best I’ve stayed in during the whole trip. It had a TV, a massive beauty mirror, an en suite bathroom, a big double bed, and even a bloody kitchen! Shame that I only got to sleep in it for 2 hours. Asleep by 1am and up at 3am, the taxis were picking us up to head back to the airport at 3.30am.

I met another Fijian guy while waiting for the pick up, who decided he didn’t want to wait and called his own taxi, offering me a ride with him. It was a bit of a rickety old thing which had no seat belts but I was half asleep so didn’t give a shit. Making small talk with him I soon discovered he worked for the Fijian prime minister, which took me by surprise. I don’t know why, because obviously Fiji would have it’s own PM. I think I had just seen Fiji as a paradise holiday destination and from the last few hours I had this slightly changed perspective on Fiji. He wasn’t the last local I was to meet neither.

Oh I forgot to mention before but Sam and John, couple from Blue Lagoon, were on the same flight as me to LA. I was looking forward to finally having friends on a flight and we had planned on getting drunk together. This wasn’t to be of course. Anyway, I bumped into them as I got out the taxi and we joined the massive queue that had formed when I arrived at the airport. When we finally reached the counter I received more bad news. As my flight would arrive in LA too late for me to get my connecting flight I would have to be put up in accommodation in LA for one night also, and then catch another flight the following afternoon. I’d already been to LA and was unimpressed the first time. Then more bad news.

Apparently my flight company had failed to inform me that I required an ESTA visa for transit through the states, even though originally I wasn’t even leaving the airport. So I got my computer out and in a half panic, half daze from tiredness walked away from the desk and over to a bench near the airport exit doors. I plonked my stuff down and went back to another counter to ask a quick question regarding internet connection so that I could get online and apply for the thing. By now I was feeling a bit pressured, having only 80 minutes left before the plane departed.

Then as I came back Sam and John were sitting at the bench, having checked their luggage in and waiting to see that I could get my visa ok. And it was then that I realised that my passport wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I searched my rucksack assuming I had misplaced it somehow, then Sam and John both searched it and the floor and everywhere I had walked in the last 30 seconds. Because it was literally that short a time since I had hold of it. I had already shown it to the girl at the counter so there was no denying I had lost it outside of the airport. I figured that I was being stupid and I must have dropped it somewhere. Then as the situation became more apparent and I realised I wasn’t going to get the plane on time, no matter what happened; I felt more a sense of surrealism than stress. I mean I was stressed but the past 12 hours seemed suddenly like some bizarre plan which had been designed specifically to prevent me getting on that plane and home.

You always hear about travellers with bad luck, whether they have stuff stolen, or miss their flight, or have to go to hospital because a monkey scratched them and they feared rabies. Lots of random shit. But I had avoided it for the whole 12 months. I’d never lost anything, or felt under threat or in a situation I couldn’t resolve. And in the end, once I had security running up and down and the poor girl at the counter looking around with a face of complete bewilderment as to how it could have happened, all I could think was ‘well this is about right’. Sam and John seemed a bit speechless and probably felt awful for having to leave me there but I was hardly going to break down crying and begging them ‘Please stay, don’t leave me here alone!’ So I gave them a prompt and stoical farewell hug and told them I’d be fine and I’d get in contact once it was all sorted.

Time passed which now seems a bit blurry in my memory, and as it sunk in further I started getting the shakes as the adrenaline hit in. I tried to occupy myself from the fact that my passport was gone, and I assumed that security had just stopped looking. I guess I thought in a rather self involved way that no one cared and was just leaving me to it. Which I’m sure wasn’t the case, but I don’t think they had really been trained for a situation like mine. It was rather odd now I think about it. One airport guy rather bluntly explained what my options were now.

Basically, I would have to make a statement to the police that it had been stolen or lost. I decided on stolen for insurance purposes. Then the police would explain the rest. I asked him what would happen once I had a new temporary passport. He said I would have to buy a new ticket for a flight the following evening. I realised that being on the other side of the world I would be paying at least a grand if not two for my ticket home. And I couldn’t call my flight company to change the date of my round the world ticket, because I was already flying home on the last date they could offer me. Okaaaaaaay I thought. It was now about half hour before the plane was going to depart. I think at that point I felt torn between a vague hope that everything would right itself and the acceptance that no the bloody hell it wasn’t! So I got all my shit and made my way to the police station, just outside the airport building and across the road.

I saw a policeman; they were all dressed in sulus (male skirts) with official badges on. It was more like an army uniform. Each time they spoke to the chief or entered the room they would stand and salute. They seemed to take that part quite seriously but then they just relaxed and seemed to demonstrate a general laidback ‘yeah man I’m chilling init’ attitude. To this first policeman and then two more after him - until I actually got taken to the chief - I quickly rabbited ‘Hi, I just had my passport in the airport and it disappeared. I would like to report it stolen’. They all looked at me as if I was nuts which seemed fair as I was standing there with a 17kg backpack on my back, a rucksack on my front, a shopping bag with a change of clothes for when I was getting to LA in one hand, and my laptop in the other.

I saw at least 10 people walking around the station, most of who all seemed gathered in the main office when I was giving my statement, but none of them seemed to actually be working. I don’t mean that in a cynical way, I kind of like the whole ‘Fiji time’ attitude they have. But it’s moments like that when you just long to be in England. I dumped all my stuff and was offered a seat at the desk in the office and then when the chief appeared, he got out his book and started doodling as I gave my statement. He didn’t seem to be writing anything down and then we began a conversation that went something like this;
-So where are you from?
England
-Oh I like England. What part?
In the south
-And what’s your name?
Chris, Christopher James Davis, here’s a copy of my passport (I pushed the photocopy in front of him to see).
-So where is your real passport? (Oh god here we go again I thought)
I don’t know, I think someone stole it
-Why would someone steal it? (He said this almost in an innocent way, not doubting my story but clearly thinking it impossible that someone would want to steal my passport)
I don’t know, I think maybe they picked it up by accident (I truly believed this is what had happened. But I didn’t want to say I’d lost it. I was hardly going to say ‘it’s all my fault, I lost it but I have to say stolen so that it will be covered by my insurance’.)
-But wouldn’t they realise it wasn’t theirs?
I really don’t know. What should I do now?
-(He took a moment thinking as he wrote my name in the book, ‘finally getting somewhere’ I thought). You’ll have to get a temporary passport.
Where from?
-The British embassy
Where’s that?
-Suva
How do I get there?
-It’s 5 hours one way on the public bus (public bus being an old run down open window thing with wooden seats. Lovely)
Can I go there today?
-No, it’s closed today because it’s public holiday (FOR FUCKS SAKE!)
Ok… (I felt quite defeated at that point) If I go there early tomorrow morning will I be able to get back in time for a flight tomorrow evening?
-Probably not.

A thought flashed through my mind then that I could just stay in Fiji and not return home. It’s not like I had anything planned for when I got back anyhow. And then a policemen tapped me on the shoulder and handed me my passport. I just sort of looked it at first. The chief looked at me and smiled, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said ‘Case solved!’ But I can’t actually remember. I was more taken by how they had found it. The policemen gestured at this older looking Fijian man who just smiled (only a few teeth left) and shrugged. I could imagine that he had stolen and then changed his mind but really that would be unfair because truly I will always remain clueless as to how they found. It was then five minutes before my flight was leaving so I gathered my stuff, said ‘thank you!’ and started a run, or slow jog what with all the weight, back to the airport counter.

Unsurprisingly the girls first words were ‘oh no that flight just took off’. But I’d been expecting that. I then went to the customer service desk and explained what had happened in the last hour and that I now had my passport back. The lady who I guess was manager of Airway Pacific (my flight company) was incredibly kind and understanding and offered to put me on the flight tomorrow evening, free of charge. She said ‘I’m just glad you found your passport Mr Davis’. She could have been difficult and made me pay for a new ticket which I imagine would have happened if I was flying from Heathrow. And I suddenly, despite being stuck there for an extra two days than intended, was very glad to be in Fiji.

Christ this story is going on forever! No wonder I’ve taken so long to write it. I’ll do the last bit tomorrow ;-)

The morning after bonfire night and the catching of the fish began with breakfast and a chat with the German Sydney couple. They confirmed my opinion on the Australian work ethic that you don’t have to work too hard to get the job done. They admitted their fear of ever returning to Germany and trying to get an equivalent job to the ones they have now. They didn’t believe it possible because Australia just doesn’t expect as much from its workers which had led them to becoming lazy in the workplace, at least from a European view.

I sunbathed for a while and was lying next to Dan and Laura who I spoke to on and off, and got through a chunk of my book. I ate lunch with Sam and John, and together we ordered up our catch of the previous day which they promised to cook for us. John’s was the tastier of the fish but we had three whole fish in the end between us. It was a LOT of food, and the Fijians probably thought we were pigs to order all three fish. Eventually we shared it out with other people on the tables next to us, once we had eaten all the best bits of course. But pretty cool to have caught and ate my own fish. Can’t see myself doing that again.

I read my book after lunch and took a swim later in the afternoon along the coral edge. The coral was nowhere as good as Manta Ray, but by this point fish all looked the same to me. Non-appreciate, I know! Oh, I also went for a Kayak before lunch too, forgot about that. But the current was deceptively strong. The water was so still but it kept dragging me out. To be fair I was taking regular sleeping break, lying straight down in the kayak looking up at the sky, instead of actually kayaking. A boat must have pulled up close to me, letting snorkelers off from another island. I didn’t realise as I was almost snoozing until I heard a man bellow ‘BULA!’ I almost fell out of the kayak so I had to laugh. Along with everyone else on the boat too :-/

Later I remember trying to read in the room, enjoying the air con. I wasn’t really in the mood any more to meet more people and the room quickly feel silent as there was a general sense that everyone just wanted to sit and read. I felt embarrassed for the snorer though who dozed off and soon sounded like a car engine running. I couldn’t believe he could make so much noise and have only been asleep for 30 seconds. I thought it was funny and laughed to myself but a few people looked at me quite sternly, either they were his friend or were generally unimpressed. Either way, I went back to my book. I’d had enough fish for a week so wasn’t blown away by the fish for dinner, although all fish I ate there was brilliant. We had crab racing again, and a Texan girl won, displaying your stereotypical American enthusiastic response. I lost, couldn’t even see the thing, so reckon mine got ate again.

On my final day I spent part of the morning chatting to the Norwegian girl who had been on the island now 2 weeks. I hadn’t made any effort to talk to her, getting a sense that she was a little stuck up. She was actually all right, at least her job made her interesting enough to talk to. I had Nachos for lunch, finished ‘Girl with a Pearl Earing’, enjoyed my last swim out to the buoy and back, and sunbathed. In the evening it was Fijian night.

Everyone danced the snake and I had to lead at one point which was awkward but fun all the same. It was a very similar routine to the one we had enjoyed at the village in the week, and I thought it funny how this was in part the villagers’ job now; to entertain silly tourists twice a week with a recurring song and dance. There was something sad about it but then they did all look happy together and I guess there’s nothing sad about singing and dancing. I just hoped that they weren’t being exploited in any way. Part of Fiji night was a massive buffet of different meats and fish, potatoes, salad and vegetables. There was also soup and fresh bread, and cake for dessert. Yummy yummy yummy! Definitely a good night to be my last. I sat with the couples who were now my best buds on the resort and eventually the food sweats got too much and I made my way to bed.

I was up early in the morning to checkout. And I decided last minute to join the shark dive, which occurred twice a week. It seemed a bloody good price at about £40 so I decided I’d treat myself as it was a good way to end my Fiji trip. I thought it odd that the English guy who usually ran the dives wasn’t with us and instead we had a local Fijian. He was probably licensed but he didn’t instil much confidence into my diving skills which were almost zero, having forgotten pretty much everything I’d been taught nearly a whole year previously in Malaysia.
We (the divemaster, driver, me and one other American guy) were on the boat, driving out into the ocean for at least ten minutes. By this time I couldn’t see any land around us and wouldn’t have known which way to swim if the boat had sunk. I had been told by John who had dived earlier in the week that there were several boats at the meeting point, all of which had about 4 people on them who went on the dive. When we showed up there was no other boat so I suddenly felt a little nervous. In the ocean where I can’t see land with a guide who acted quite a cool attitude about the thing...hmmm is this a good idea I thought.

Before I knew it he had strapped on my tank and positioned me on the side of the boat and I was falling backwards in the water. My panic started rising quite quickly after this as I was the only one in the water and he kept shouting at me to swim to the front of the boat so I didn’t get smacked in the head as the boat rotated. They seemed to be taking forever to get in the water but eventually the other American guy was in the water. He seemed to me completely calm but had told me previously that this was like his 40th dive.

Then we were being told to start descending. I said ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’ to the divemaster who had not even attached his scuba kit yet. You can imagine I didn’t feel full of confidence at this stage. But he kept telling me to go down and he’d be right behind us. Yeah I thought, sending the bait down first before he gets in. And then I was descending through dark water. It was fairly clear but this added to my panic as I could see was black nothingness, which meant the bottom was quite far down. It must have been over 20 metres to the bottom and when I finally got there I instantly felt relieved. I checked my oxygen and had already used up a quarter of the tank so decided that if this was going to work I’d have to calm down.

Luckily there was a rope to hang onto so I found this and stood and waited. Thank God the American guy was there with me or I’d have swum around like a lunatic. Eventually the divemaster appeared with a big bin, and as he turned it upside down all these fish heads and guts poured out. Almost instantly, fish appeared from everywhere and the sea didn’t look so black and empty any more. There were so many varieties it’s hard to recall but I liked one in particular that was about half a metre in length and had purple and orange colours and eyes that made him look like a professor.

The nurse sharks appeared a while after; these are about 1 to 1 and half metre in length. They didn’t seem that scary and I was feeling a little peeved that that was all we were going to see. I’d sort of been expecting something more heart stopping. Standing holding the rope gave the impression that we were almost looking into a fish tank in an aquarium so it was quite easy to distance myself from the action, even though it was taking place just feet in front of me. I started zoning out, keeping control of my breathing and just relaxing watching the view when the big ones started to appear. There were about 3 or 4 in the end, the Lemon sharks, who reach up to about 3.5 metres. I got my heart stopping moment, when one swam round and started coming straight towards us.

Instinct told me not to move and once it noticed us it turned and just swam along in front of us. But it must have been less than three feet away at one point. Eventually more divers showed up, we must have got their early! They dumped more fish guts and the fish kept feeding. Interestingly each time the guts were poured the sharks would scatter away and vanish for a minute or so leaving the smaller fish to enjoy the feast for themselves. I realised in the end that the sharks were the most scared, almost flinching at any sign of movement from the humans. I suppose it’s because they are less use to having things bigger than them floating around in the water, whereas the little ones just take it in their stride.

It seemed we were down their ages and I definitely felt I had got my money’s worth. I was happy in the end to be told it was over and started making our ascent. You have to fill your vest with air to raise up to the top. Lack of experience in this meant that I filled the vest too quickly and panicking started rising way too fast. This is the most realistically frightened I’ve ever been diving and it definitely taught me a lesson for next time if I do it again.

I came quite close to the surface, which if I had reached without the 5 minute stop would have led to decompression sickness, which from that depth would have been life threatening. So thankfully I managed to work the air out and the vest deflated so that I re met my diving buddies below me. The dive master even through his mask didn’t look particularly impressed and I had a feeling of chagrin as I knew it was my fault for being too eager with the air but also felt he was partly to blame for not taking care of what I was doing, which is essentially a dive masters’ job.

Anyway, I live to tell the tale so it was all fine in the end. At the surface there was no boat which left me feeling unsettled again. It did show but when I finally was on the boat and could see the land appearing again I felt quite a large surge of relief. I’m so glad I did the dive but had never felt so nerved like that before. Probably for that reason however, it will be very memorable. And of course, to have dived with sharks in that way is brilliant. No regrets!

Back on the resort I paid up my bill. I wasn’t happy about the $25 charge I had incurred for my no show on the cave trip; I decided I couldn’t be bothered to attend it a few days before, despite having signed up. It did state in the small print apparently that I was billed for half the charge if I didn’t show so I didn’t argue. But they hadn’t charged me a drink and for the fishing trip so I kept my mouth shut about that and figured we were even.

I showered and got ready for my departure from the resort a couple of hours later. When the time came to say goodbye I was sad to leave but more than anything looked rather bleakly on the prospect of two days’ journey home. It would start with the 5 hour ferry ride back to the mainland, a night’s stay, a flight the next day of 10 hours to LA, a 4 hour wait, and then another 11 hour flight back to London. Urgh! Little did I expect that it would be another extra two days on top of this :-(

But for now, Goodbye Blue Lagoon resort. In many ways the best place I have ever stayed and an incredible way to end a year travelling. Now, just the long journey home…

So it has been a while since my last blog, and for a while I was going to leave it. But as I finally have a day on my own again to write I’m taking the chance to finish it off.

The last time I wrote, I was sitting round the bonfire on Fiji night at Manta Ray Island. I woke in the morning ready to head off to my last resort where I would be spending a whole week. I spent the morning reading on the beach and when the time came for us to leave the workers gathered anyone leaving the island to sit on the designated bench where we were serenaded ‘goodbye’. Sadly, I can’t remember how the song goes but I heard it so many times, at least twice a day, and use to hum it in my head all day after, so I’m quite disappointed I’ve now forgotten it. But enough to say it’s a lovely song. Awkwardly, there were only two us leaving the island so I had to look all interested and flattered as a staff of 10 sung us off the island.

I sat on the top deck as I headed up the Yasawa’s towards Blue Lagoon Resort and admired the changing scenery which became more beautiful with white sands and more turquoise waters than I had seen further south. Arriving on the island I instantly knew this was going to be the place I’d remember as ‘paradise’ with a white beach setting, and a real sense of isolation, which in normal circumstances would freak me out but made total sense here.

I bumped into Hannah almost immediately and we caught up quickly before I went to dump my luggage in the dorm room. Finally, air conditioned accommodation, with free beach and shower towels replaced daily and a side table for all my shit. This and food included amounted to $45 a day – that’s £15. Bargain! I went to grab some lunch in the restaurant situated just off of the beach but looking out over the horizon. There were no hills or stairs to climb, everything was an easy walking distance and the path which ran through the resort went past all these quaint villa style accommodations which looked like perfect honeymoon material. The restaurant seated around 40 which were approximately how many people stayed on the resort at a time, some days there were only 20-30 so it was really easy to get to know everyone’s faces very fast.

The restaurant flooring was sand which gave the sense that you basically never left the beach, except to go to your room, which for me was only ever twice in the day; once to get changed for dinner and then to sleep. There were plenty of padded sunbeds, a stone throw away from the restaurant and bar, placed right on the beach looking out on a horizon where the sun set every evening. The water was so calm here too, more like stepping into a heated pool than the sea itself. The sea life wasn’t as impressive here as it had been at Manta Ray but except for this, nothing stood in comparison to Blue Lagoon.

Food: Breakfast consisted of muesli or cornflakes with milk, fresh fruit (watermelon, pineapple, oranges, apples), four different types of bread (my favourite was the fruit corn bread!), butter, ham, tomatoes, cucumber (I guess for making a takeaway snack), and these amazing home baked muffins. There was optional cooked breakfast which you could pay for but it seemed pointless when there was so much option as it was. Lunch was a la carte. My first day I had this pickled fish casserole which tasted way better than it sounds. My favourite lunch times dishes would be the fish (which always had a meatier texture like chicken, I think its name was Kokoda), the chicken wrap, or the burger…or the salad, or the pizza. Anyway, there was about 10 different options, plus the chefs daily special, so enough variety for a week. I was always amazed how they had such high quality food in the middle of nowhere. To remain one of life’s mysteries!

After lunch there was a free trip to the Sand Bay, a 10 minute boat ride away. I went with Hannah and Katy (whom I had met on my first leg of the journey from Nadi to Wayalailai a week before). She was lovely although could talk for England and Fiji combined so I could find her irritating in large group conversations. The sand bay was one of the best things I did, where the water occasionally on low tide became so low that it allowed for walking large distances through the water, potentially a mile out while still being shin height in the water.

It looked from a distance like people were walking on the water and was very cool. I walked out a distance and just sat watching the world go by. A strange thing happened; it started raining heavy as there was a small cloud directly above our heads. But the rest of the sky was clear so the sun was bright and made the rain look almost like crystals hitting the water, but obviously surrounding us from all angles because we were sat in the ocean. It was like one of nature’s beautiful moments but it just seems surreal at the time.

Typically the moment was ruined because I suddenly felt a desperate need to poo. For a while I just contained myself assuming that the boat would be back, as the tide was soon drawing back in and there was eventually only enough sand, about the diameter of a small house, left to stand on. When the boat did return we all jumped on board before the water swallowed up any dry surface we had previously been on and we started the journey back to the resort. Frustratingly, on the way we had had two boats taking the passengers out to the bay, so with two boat loads people now on just one, the poor thing moved about a mile an hour through the water. A journey that took five minutes before was now twenty minutes on return. I was unable at this point to think about anything except keeping control of my guts, which took all the concentration I could muster. When the resort did appear it too so long to reach it, it seemed at one moment like we were moving away from the beach rather than towards it.

Eventually, we moored up and I went off to do my business, making it just in time. Phew! Then I showered, which was loooovely and warm. No more cold shower!! And feeling relaxed and rather smug with my decision to stay on the resort for a whole week I laid on my bed and read for a while. Dinner on the first night was a Tapas style, which basically meant an unbelievable amount of food kept coming out, dish after dish until I was just nibbling things for a taste because I couldn’t squeeze any more in. Another welcome change from the previous meals on the other resorts where I had been rubbing my thumb around the plate, ensuring I didn’t waste any crumbs.

I befriended a couple at dinner who became two of the best friends I made in Fiji. It’s always a pleasant surprise too to be reminded how small a world it is, as they told me they came from Worle, just a walk around the corner from where my Nan lives, and a 10 minute drive down the road from where I grew up. John worked for a bank and I’m tempted to say was an actuary but I know nothing about finance so I won’t pretend, and Sam worked as a graphic designer. They were travelling for ten months in all and were taking Fiji as their ‘holiday within a holiday’ before racing round America. They both had their jobs open to them when they returned home so I was a tad jealous of their organisation. After dinner it was ‘retro night’, meaning the television screen pulled down in front of the lounging area just off the beach, was pulled down and screened a mixture of music videos from the 80’-90’s. Rather odd but I like my music videos so no complaints. It was quiet for a Saturday and definitely had the most peaceful atmosphere of all the places I’d previously been to, so after a couple of cocktails it was time for bed.

After breakfast, I sunbathed all the following morning. Perhaps, because it was the first time I had lain out in the sun for so long I did get mild sunstroke and ended up with a head ache for the rest of the day. Otherwise it was just reading my book, listening to my ipod, and just being generally lazy. There was a buoy a distance out to sea which I swam out to and back on most days, which helped me from becoming a total slouch which would have been very easy, while being on the island. It was steak for dinner that night and added to the fact that I had a bad headache still; this was my least favourite meal. There was the local Nacula choir who sang that sweet ‘goodbye’ song amongst others, for our nightly entertainment. But soon after, the head ache still pestering me; I made my excuses and went to bed early.

While I’m thinking of it, I’ll mention a few of the people I became friends with on the island. I seemed to have a knack for befriending all the couples. There was Laura (on a gap year before starting career as midwife) and Dan (admin manager who was visiting her halfway through), from somewhere in the South East. They were a lovely couple too and I had lots of chats with them. There was a German couple who lived in Sydney and despite being middle aged had the bodies of people 15 years younger. They were nice and easy to talk to but they had a slightly superficial air about them which I can only describe as the ‘Sydney effect’, having now lived there for at least ten years. Tom (who I had previously befriended in the stinky dorm room in Wellington, NZ) had already arrived with his German girlfriend. They looked good together so it was sad to hear they were just treating it as time together before saying goodbye for good. Neither of them was willing to leave their countries so realistically it couldn’t work.

There was Nicolas (or Nick as his London mates called him), a Parisian who had moved to London ten years ago and started off as a dishwasher and through hard work and determination had now become owner of his own gourmet restaurant in some posh part of London, which he was opening the day after he returned from a year travelling around the world. He was also very good looking and had an incredible body so just generally made me feel sick. But he was also very funny and easy to get along with so it was hard to hate him. And I got on well with another English girl Sarah, who was currently living in Melbourne and was taking Fiji as a holiday from her work. She was a good one to banter with and definitely had the most spirit of all the people I met in that week.

There were a few other ones but I never got to know them well enough so brief mention to the 18 year old frigid German girl who had never worked and was relying on the parents to fund her 6 month travel before going to University. Quote ‘I don’t like parties’. Good luck! The Hawaiian who looked constantly stoned but said the occasional insightful thing that left everyone slightly stunned, the Dutch guy who had looked much better than he sounded, and would likely go through the rest of his life getting by on how he looks rather than what he has to offer intellectually, and the Norwegian ‘street doctor’ who was taking a gap year from her stressful but rewarding life, as counsellor and social support officer for drug abusers.

On the morning of day three I took a long walk along the beach and back and discovered areas that were completely untouched. I walked for almost thirty minutes without seeing a soul, which I suppose was fairly unsettling, but instead felt brilliant, being somewhere so stunningly beautiful but all mine to view. I chatted to Hannah before lunch as this was her last day and soon she was being taken off to the boat for her farewell song. Goodbye Hannah! She would join Lara back in Auckland for a couple of days before making the long journey home. I ate lunch with Katy and ‘never had a job’ Julia, then read my book, with the occasional bit of sunbathing thrown in.

I watched the sunset while swinging in a hammock and then went off to shower before dinner. After dinner it was crab racing. $3 entry (£1), who wouldn’t? I believe my crab I selected was eaten by another one as I couldn’t spot in anywhere but the luck was spread out to a good degree amongst my group and Sam and John came first and second while Sarah got third place. Crab racing, despite never winning, was probably my favourite event which happened twice a week. Just simply for the pleasure of watching everyone getting so excited about a little creature the size of a thumbnail. All the money for the entry went to the local village also, which partly I guess explains why our visits to the village on this island were free. I had a drink with Katy and she told me about her job working with old people in care homes or social housing, it sounded slightly depressing but I admired her for what she did. Then bed.

Up early and out for the hike in the morning. It was different to the hike at Waya Lailai but just as good. Although it was also free this time, so possibly slightly better. I got to know Laura, Dan and Nick better on the hike and Mahoney our guide took us up the top of the hill. We then hiked along the top and along through overgrown heathland. We got to see some incredible panoramic views of the island and it was a beautiful day. It was also fascinating to see the coral which from a high distance was visible as an outline along the coast, standing out like a shadowy pattern just under the surface of the sea. It gave the water multiple different shades of blue and turquoise, very pretty!

Later at the resort I had another swim out to the buoy and then sat around chatting to Katy whose last day it was. Then I had lunch with Sam and John and sunbathed until it was time for the village trip. We had a very informative guide, I assume. I’m a shit listener when it’s hot weather, and just generally when someone talks for longer than a minute in one stretch my attention switch turns off. He showed us the Chief’s house, which was actually just a large empty shed but with comfy pillows to sit on. Then we walked around looking at the houses and into the stiflingly hot church. We then had a show from the villagers, including singing dancing and a bit of audience participation was required as we did the ‘snake’ and the ‘bula bula’ dance.

After, we had a walk around the ‘makeshift’ market i.e. old ladies and their jewellery covered blankets. I had an attack of indecision and finally resulted on just one bracelet for the mother who since has NOT worn it ONCE! But my favourite part of the village was the school. The kids stayed behind specially every week on the village visit to perform an array of song and dance tunes including ‘if you’re happy and you know it..’ and the best one by far ‘kentucky fried chicken and a pizza hut!’ They were really cute kids and everyone was impressed.

Arriving back at the dorm I found my bed had been shifted up against the wall to make room for an extra bed, and the dorm was full. I wasn’t very impressed but I still had to admit that the dorm was one of the nicest I’ve ever stayed in. Unfortunately, the guy who moved into the bed next to mine was a snorer I got a bit drunk at dinner but if faded off when we played Volleyball. I was terrible and whenever the thing came my way I hit it as hard as I possibly could. This worked the first couple of times but there was no real tactic involved, I was simply just trying to avoid it hitting my face or landing at my feet which would have been even more humiliating. Once I had worked up a sweat I decided enough was enough and cowered out leaving the passionate ones to it.

I took a seat with Sam and we chatted while watching the games unfold. I quickly lost who was in the lead and just switched to full on chat instead. Later, when the game was over a group of us all gathered around and played cards which then lead to drinks and chats. This is when we first heard about Johannes aka Herman the German, he was one of the new arrivals, a late middle aged pervert of a man who lingered around the dorm rooms sneak peaking at the girls. He provided good gossip for a few days including the time he tried to kiss the poor Asian girl who he had offered to help improve her English, and the constant cringe worthy flirting with the Fijian women who worked there. He was finally asked to leave the resort after propositioning one of the cleaners. Yuk! Rumour has it, that after Fiji he was moving to Bangkok. I wonder why…

Tim, one of the Fijian guys, told us that when he first met Johannes he assumed he was a dick because when he asked him his name he responded ‘Your highness’. He then mocked a bow and praising gestures going ‘yes your highness, of course you highness’. This had everyone laughing; he was my favourite of all the workers there. This night was also my latest and most wild night in Fiji, staying up till 2am! Even then it was super laidback.

I had a late breakfast the following day and I was sad that Sarah and Nick were both leaving, especially having formed a good group the night before. Nothing ever lasts! At lunch I sat with Dan and Laura and got to know them better. It ended up being me and all the couples throughout mealtimes for the rest of my stay. It didn’t matter much as they were all people who didn’t define themselves by coupledom but I did feel my singledom at times. I did a little sunbathing and then joined Sam, John, Tom and his gf on the fishing trip.

Despite feeling like a total loser at volleyball the night before, luck turned in my favour and I proved to be good at something masculine for once and caught two fish on the trip. John also caught two and some other random euro kid caught one too. I was quite amazed to even catch the first one and as I was pulling it up on a line which seemed to go on forever, I did panic at the thought there might be nothing at the end of it. Pushing aside that thought I kept pulling on the line and believe it or not, I hadn’t imagined the tugging and there it was, a fish! I grabbed hold of it, so much slimier and well…alive than I was expecting. Then I got girly and asked someone else to deal with it for me.

The second catch was funniest, when the thing started tugging as I was pulling it. I was thinking shit it’s going to be a fighter and I won’t know what to do with the bloody thing. Then as it came out I was so relieved it wasn’t struggling that I was the last to realise half its arse had been chewed off. Then I felt all guilty for the thing being in pain and said ‘oh the poor thing’ which gave everyone a good laugh, seeing as the whole aspect of fishing is that the thing goes through pain in order for us to catch and eat it. Anyhow, success!

Back at the resort, I washed the fish off myself and then made my way to dinner. All the food was good by this point but I can’t quite recall what I ate from one day to the next. Tonight was ‘Bonfire night’ and even the Resort manager demonstrated his fire skills. Oh, the manager by the way was this Australian guy who reminded me constantly of a TV presenter. But he was always switched on in this way, with a constant show business grin on his face, and in the end I had to accept he probably just looked and acted that way at all times. But it was strange. I nicknamed him Paul Scholfield.

He and two other guys did that fire spinning trick and then lit up the bonfire. They must have laid fuel down on the beach as a long line of fire spread from each side and united in the middle in a blast of flames. It was quite spectacular in its own little low key way. A group of young americans had arrived and were being obnoxious so I lost the mood early on and sat with Sam and John, until we decided to watch the fishing trip videos which Tom had filmed back in our rooms. They showed me photos of their SE Asia trip and I got jealous of the places I hadn’t seen and nostalgic about the ones I had. This was until tiredness suddenly hit me and I went off to bed.

It was actually still a week before I would ‘eventually’ get home. But I’ll explain all this next time on my ‘last’ actual entry. You hope! x

I could tell within 5 minutes after arriving at the Manta Ray resort that it didn't have the same charm as Waya Lailai. Most of this was the way the workers were; they seemed less laidback and often rushed through people at meal times, not always saying Bula as we crossed paths and so on. I think perhaps this is down to management rather than the actual people who worked there. Generally the people are still more lovely and relaxed than the average Westerner but I was comparing this to Fiji standard and of all the places this one was lacking something.

It was also quite expensive – again, only by Fiji standards but... For accommodation and meals it worked out only $10 or so less than Blue Lagoon (the resort I would spend a week at after this one) which was far more superior all round. I paid for a Rayver package which included 3 nights accommodation, a free snorkelling trip and a free kayaking trip. Of course it's not exactly free, because I've paid for it. In hindsight I wouldn't have booked it this way but it's how they sell it online, it's a little deceiving. Because in actual fact, the kayaking is free to do on your own anyway and the best snorkelling is actually right on the beach front. But in order to snorkel, even though I had a free trip, I would still have to pay for the hire of the snorkelling gear at $20. Hmmmm.

I wasn't so keen on the dorm either. It was clean but I felt bad for the girl who had to strip all the beds each day, drag each mattress outside to the balcony, spray it for bed bugs and leave it to air. Seemed a little OTT. I was given a bottom bunk which at first I was pleased with but it was so high off the ground I had to jump to get on it. And the gap between the mattress and the top bunk was around two feet. The mosquito net hung from this also and when laying down in the day was touching my nose; bit too claustrophobic for my liking. I got a free half hour internet session here which came in handy as I could update my blog online and check emails. And once given the code on my laptop they didn't know about me sneaking up on the stairs outside the office continuing to use the internet whenever I felt like.

Mealtimes were good, and it was nice to have an a la carte menu for lunch although the portions were still bordering on ration size. The breakfast was good quality though and it was a step up from Waya Lailai. I just feel looking back on my time there, that it wasn't value for money in the way the other two resort were. I think it makes sense to pay less and get less and pay more for more but not pay more and get average. I also found the place a bit boring and quite difficult to find a place to relax as the seating area was all leather so it could get quite sticky and they had loud music playing all day, even when it was raining and people just wanted to sit somewhere and read.

But the location itself was still incredible and I think this is how they can justify the prices they charge. Aptly named Manta Ray for the infamous manta rays that appear every year, these things are harmless but reach up to 8 metres in diameter. Scary but cool. Sadly, despite being the season no Manta Rays were spotted during my time there. The other thing that no where else I visited could match was the quality of the reef just off the beach. I didn't snorkel the first day, as I was pissed off with the fact that they wanted me to pay for the gear even though I had paid already for the trip, but after I'd slept on it the logical thing was to pay for the gear obviously. I was only going to be there once after all. And truth be told, I managed to argue my way out of having to pay for it in the end, by mentioning that the way they sold the package online was misleading.

But going back to getting off the boat. I spoke to these English girls who were all travelling together or had met at some point but none of them had much to say for themselves so I got bored and didn't make much effort after our first interaction. That's how I felt with most of the people I met at Manta Ray, but I was also in a bad mood so I'm likely just being unfair. I tried reading my book in bed and having a nap but was too hot and got bitten really badly by what I thought at first was bed bugs but later realised was mozzies who like to play in the day too in Fiji. I used the internet, had a shower and then went to dinner.

That's when I bumped into Esther the Swiss girl again. She had just arrived that day from Blue Lagoon resort which she clearly loved. While at Manta Ray I kept meeting people who said how lovely Blue Lagoon was, so I felt myself willing the 3 nights to pass as quickly as possible here. I couldn't help it when I knew better was to come. While eating the rainstorm that had already begun got ever worse and it must have torrential for nearly two hours. I wasn't in the mood for getting wet and there wasn't really anywhere else to go except bed so I stayed put chatting to Esther and this annoyingly opinionated German guy. He was adamant that bed bugs were nothing to complain about and couldn't understand why we didn't want any in our beds.
'They don't bother you'
'But they bite you'
'Well what's the problem'
'You won't be able to sleep'
'Of course you can sleep through them'
'Well most people can't'.
Except him obviously. He was either weird, argumentative or just both, but I didn't like him. Finally the rain died down and I made my exit. He appeared soon after and was hanging around near my bed looking like he wanted someone to chat to. I went to brush my teeth, saw the island cat puke up half a dead rat, felt nauseous and went to sleep.

I felt depressed the morning after, especially after hearing even more amazing things about Blue Lagoon from new arrivals. I knew I should be appreciating my time, but I couldn't. I read my book in the morning after breakfast which probably didn't help as it was starting to drag. After lunch I decided to snorkel because sitting and disliking the place was doing me any favours. It was a good idea as the reef was by the best I have seen anywhere on my travels. There were thousands of fish with really colourful reefs, one was this beautiful purple colour and I was out there snorkelling for at least an hour. It was one of the best things I did while in Fiji.

I was in a better mood after that, and read before going to dinner. On the bunk above me was a girl from Hawaii who I never got the name of. But she was nice if a bit too serious and was travelling Fiji for a month looking for something which I think she was trying too hard to find. She had spent a few days at a retreat further north on an island where people paid to volunteer and help local Fijians build this ecohaven village. Basically, it was all a ploy for the Australian guy running it to make money and she explained how all the Fijian people there felt trapped and bad about their situation. And also very sad when she left because most people who stayed there were those pretentious hippy types who just got high all day thinking it's cool. Coming from Hawaii I asked her how it compared. She said the scenery was the same but Fiji is far less developed and offers places like the islands which have no cars or roads and are completely isolated, which Hawaii use to be, but about 50 or so, if not more, years ago. After hearing this, I now have no desire to see Hawaii.

When I went to dinner I sat chatting to Esther. She wasn't the most interesting conservationist but she was the best at the table we were sat on and I listened to her tell me all about her extended family in New Zealand which gave me the similar feeling to the one I have when reading a sports or politics article in a newspaper. We went down to the bar area after dinner and watched people playing the limbo and this other game that I can't be bothered to describe. I had a pinacolada which was ruined by the fact that they blended the cream with the ice so that it was left with a mountain of froth on top and a funny twang. Esther continued to tell me about her family and showed me the pictures on her camera and even asked at one point 'Do say if I'm boring you'. 'No, not at all'. Eek!

The following morning I finally met someone I genuinely clicked with. I think her name was Emily, and she was travelling with her friend for a few months doing all the similar places as myself, excluding SE Asia. She had studied at Guildford and was still living there working for the University. Maybe if I had had longer getting to know her we would have become better friends but as is often the way in the travelling world, you never know people for long enough. I kayaked in the morning across the bay over to another island and then around the corner off the beach to another isolated beach. It was calm water but I don't have enough upper body strength to justify calling Kayaking a leisurely activity and came close several times to falling out. But it helped clarify in my mind how beautiful a part of the world I was currently in, with virtually no one around, just floating through the turquoise waters which were so clear I could see all the way to the bottom.

I read some more and finished my book before lunchtime. After, I inquired about the free snorkelling trip which another lady was also now going on. I started my new book and then eventually they fetched me for the trip. The other lady was from Boston and probably in her mid 50's. She was easy to talk to and it made things less awkward knowing I wasn't the only one on the trip. Unsurprisingly the reef and fish were no comparison to what we could see right outside the resort, but it was great being out in the open water with the island series surrounding us from nearly all sides. And as the sun was setting the hills looked really golden and with the water so calm and blue it was like being in a television advertisement, really stunning.

At dinner I had a very awkward moment. I had earlier that day seen a guy I had met before on my Great barrier reef trip in Cairns but wasn't in the mood for saying hello so blanked him. I know rude, but whatever. I then sat down next to him at dinner not realising because he had his back to me, and then he reintroduced himself. I couldn't admit to having already seen him so I feigned surprise and I could tell as I was doing it that it was done terribly. Oh well, I'm never going to see him again now so it doesn't really matter. But what made it worse is that he remembered my name. It turned out he had the same one as me so I guess that's kinda cheating. Luckily I avoided any awkward tension by hooking onto the fact that he had been at Blue Lagoon previously. As well as asking him how it was, he had also befriended Hannah, the friend I made in NZ who was already at the resort at this time. It sounded like she was having a great time so I felt chuffed with my recommending abilities.

After eating, it was Fijian night where the local villagers come to perform, sing and dance and then afterwards they get everyone up on the dance(sand)floor dancing with them, signing 'Bula Bula' and so on. It was fun. The beach games that came after weren't so much. Due to lack of men I was made to partner with one girl who I had previously spoken to but found stuck up. Then he announced the name of the game as 'Sexual Positions'. Cringe. It actually wasn't as awful as it sounds but it was tiring with the girls jumping on the guys back and vice versa to the sound of music. It was an adaption of musical chairs pretty much. We went out of the game early on, rather conveniently and the girl and guy I'd met from Guildford won.

Then they lit a big bonfire and we sat around it and chatted. I spoke some more to Hawaii girl and the guy who ran the dive shop. I think these islands are truly like being in paradise. But after two weeks I'd had enough and was ready to go home. This guy is there everyday, eating the same food. I'd say he'd always see the same people but in fact he doesn't because at most of those resorts the travellers only stay two or three days. Such a transient way of living would have to be depressing, or at least it says a lot about the type of person who wants to live that way. For example, what is he escaping from? The stars were so beautiful that night and after talking more to the Guildford girl I could tell I was feeling settled into Fiji time, speaking more openly than I had all week and not closed in on myself. I knew when I finally left the island the next day and headed for Blue Lagoon, it would be like arriving in Fiji properly and that I'd be able to enjoy it like I wanted to. The transition stage was over.